The Dandies of Les Misérables
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: Clearly, for some reason, Victor Hugo had something against dandies. But he had to include one good one so that people wouldn't think he was prejudiced.


Félix Tholomyès, Bamatabois, Montparnasse, and Courfeyrac all meet up in some waiting room in the afterlife and discuss the merits and drawbacks of dandy-dom. Rated T for crude humor, references to prostitution/assault/etc., and douchebags being douchebags.

* * *

Félix Tholomyès sat on the curb of some dark unknown street, twirling his cane and scratching his bald spot. Even now, in the waiting room of the afterlife, he still had that bald spot he had when he was thirty. It was very itchy and downright annoying. In heaven, people were supposed to look the best they've ever looked. All the hot angels were going to laugh at him and refuse to even give him the time of day.

_It's a good thing Fantine won't be here for a while,_ he thought. _I could never let her see me like this._

A younger man with wild, curly chestnut hair and a square jaw sat down beside him. "Best cover that up," he said, without looking at Félix. "I recommend a brimmed hat. Like a bólivar."

"You can't take it with you," said Félix dismally. "I had a top hat that was the envy of the whole town. Some people say the mercury they put in those hats makes you crazy, but I don't buy it. That's an occupational hazard for hatters, but it shouldn't bother gentlemen like me."

"Then you should have taken care of yourself better when you were young. In any case, I doubt you'll need it where you're going. That's right, I heard about what you did to that grisette. Did you know she had a daughter?"

Félix stared at the young man in amazement. "You're no one to talk," he said angrily. "I know about the promiscuous Courfeyrac of the ABC. You've probably got a dozen love children you don't even know about. But you abandoned them by dying a glorious death on the barricade, so that makes it all right, doesn't it?"

"Most of those girls were prostitutes," said Courfeyrac defensively. "I didn't take advantage of innocent, virginal things the way you did. They knew what they were getting themselves into."

"Apparently you're not off the hook with prostitutes," said a deep voice. It was a fellow about Félix' age, but much better preserved. He had a flamboyantly thin mustache and a pointed goatee. Even Courfeyrac thought he looked ridiculous.

"What do you mean?" asked Félix.

"I mean, this prostitute attacked me, you see. One evening in my hometown of Montreuil-sur-Mer. It was just before I got called to Arras for jury duty, if I remember rightly. Anyway, I was just walking home, minding my own business, when out of the blue- "

"Did you provoke her in any way?" asked Courfeyrac.

"No," said Bamatabois vehemently. "I was just doing some playful, harmless teasing, you know, exercising my right as a citizen, when she turned aroung and, without warning, and scratched my face. Of course, the police came right away to arrest her."

"You poor baby," said Courfeyrac sarcastically.

"Well, it's a good thing they did," said Félix. "The penalties for prostitutes are quite severe in that area, I hear."

"What was this 'harmless' teasing?" Courfeyrac asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't even remember. I called her names, I guess. I think it was winter, and I shoved some snow down the back of her dress- not trying to hurt her at all, you see. But then the mayor comes and tries to blame everything on me. You know, I wan't surprised when he turned out to be an ex-convict. Only a con could excuse such a grievous offense. Cons always have a soft spot for their own type. But prostitutes should learn to expect that kind of treatment. Taking a bit of abuse from gentlemen is part of the job. But apparently the big guy thinks that 'golden rule' crap applies to everybody, even whores."

"I was a lawyer in my life," said Félix, "and I'm telling you now that no jury in the world would convict you."

"I was studying to be a lawyer," said Courfeyrac, "and I'm telling you now that I wouldn't take your case no matter how much you paid me."

"Well, you don't have to," said Bamatabois, folding his arms. "Getting killed in a skirmish with the police isn't exactly the most promising start to a law career."

"How dare you trivialize the revolution?" Courfeyrac shouted angrily, rising from the curb. "I'll show you, filthy monarchist scum- "

Before any blows could be exchanged, they heard a dry chuckle from Félix. "I know my Fantine would never have attacked you," he said to Bamatabois. "No matter what you did, she took it lying down. Good girl, that one. She was a sweet mistress. Anyway, she would never turn to prostitution. Before she met me, she was saving herself for marriage."

"You're a real douchebag, aren't you?" said Courfeyrac, turning towards him.

"Fantine," said Bamatabois wistfully. "Now that you mention it, that name does sound familiar."

"It must be a coincidence," said Félix. "There's probably a million girls named Fantine out there. Some cutesy nickname that mothers think will make their daughters more adorable for bearing it. Like 'Cosette'." He rolled his eyes in mockery.

Suddenly a fourth figure approached. He was wearing a very tall top hat and had long, black hair that he wore in a posh ponytail. His greatcoat was long and wide with enormous black buttons, and his leather boots were high and polished. He was even younger than Courfeyrac. He wore a knowing smirk on his face, and Courfeyrac cringed at the pure evil radiating off their new companion.

"Pardon me," he said. "Is this the meeting-place of the dandies?"

"No," said Courfeyrac. "Go away. You sully the good name of dandy with your disgusting crimes. Being a dandy is an honorable lifestyle choice, and we don't want people like you coming along and giving the rest of us a bad name."

"Look around, darling," said Bamatabois, putting a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "You're outnumbered by bad dandies three to one. Maybe it's you who doesn't belong and should rethink your identity."

"It's a little late for that," said Courfeyrac. "Anyway, I know all about you. Marius told me. You have a mistress named Éponine, who's also your boss' daughter. You're nineteen years old and already a serial robber and murderer. You make Félix and Bamatabois here look like paragons of virtue by comparison."

"Now, now," said Montparnasse, "let's not tear down our fellow dandies. In the cruel, dark world we inhabit, we embody honor, chivalry, and fashion sense. Wouldn't you agree, messieurs?"

"Oh, yes," Félix and Bamatabois nodded.

"So, let us compare nicknames. You are the 'center', I am the 'dandy of the sepulcher'. Isn't that poetic?" He laughed darkly. "I think I win this round."

"I don't have time for this," said Courfeyrac, getting up once again. "I have a barricade heaven to go to. When the rest of you want to get your acts together, come find me. I'll be behind the door at the top of purgatory. See you in a million years. And Montparnasse, ditch that awful hat. You won't need to be handsome where you're going."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know this whole fic is just a completely random brain fart, but there isn't enough fanfic out there about Félix and Bamatabois (probably plenty about Montparnasse that I don't have the stomach to read), and I wanted to know how Courfeyrac would react to meeting his fellow dandies, if they instead of Les Amis were to be his new friends. Maybe he'll takes Bamatabois' advice and rethink his lifestyle choice. Or maybe not. Who knows?


End file.
